Alexandra crested a hill overlooking a small village. The settlement was nothing more than a collection of modest wooden structures topped with thatch roofs. It had been cut out of the thick forest along with a few meager wheat fields. The village was divided in half by a stream that ran perpendicular to Alexandra’s field of vision. Across the stream, she saw two large structures: a wooden block house and a decrepit stone church. Off in the distance beyond the village a tall, rocky hill loomed in the distance. Nobody had said it yet, but Alexandra knew that she had arrived in Weisshart.

As Alexandra and the rest of the party descended the hill and approached the town, they were greeted by an old man standing on the outskirts of town. He wore brown robes and walked with a wooden cane. Schwartzbaum and his two direct subordinates, Fahim and Bob rode up to this man and began to speak to him, but they were still too far away for Alexandra to make out what they were saying. Eventually, Ekkehart and her were able to close the distance.

“...And here they are now,” Fahim said as he gestured towards the princess and her bodyguard. The moment the old man spotted Alexandra he adjusted his robes and attempted to correct his posture. When Alexandra approached him, he was just barely able to bow before her.

“Good afternoon, your highness. I am Markus Althaus, the village elder of Weisshart. I’m truly honored to be at your service,” he said.

“Thank you,” Alexandra responded. The man rose to look at her. “Are you aware of why I am here today?” she asked. Althaus nodded his head.

“I’m afraid so, your highness,” He answered.

“I see. I’m sorry that my visit to your village was under these circumstances, but I’m going to need to finish my work here quickly and to do that I’m going to need your cooperation. I would like to visit the scene of the crime and ask you some questions. Can you do that for me?”

“That won’t be a problem. I’ll lead you to where it happened and you can ask me any questions you’d like,” the old man responded. Althaus began to walk towards the village. Alexandra and her party followed.

“First thing I would like to ask: Do you happen to be related to Hugo Althaus?” Alexandra asked. There was a brief silence from the village elder.

“Yes… He was my father…” the man answered.

“I see… In that case I’m sorry for doing this to you,” Alexandra said. The old man took a deep breath.

“It’s okay, your highness. It’s been almost three decades since that day. What we’re talking about might as well have happened to another person living in another world,” he responded.

“I hate to ask this of you, but do you think you could take me to this other world?”

“I can try.”

A few minutes later, Alexandra was standing in the middle of Weisshart. Unlike the bustling Arnold Square that Alexandra had grown up with, this place was a dirt cross road surrounded on all sides by humble little buildings. Out of these buildings, Alexandra was able to immediately identify three of them as a smithy, a bakery, and a butcher's shop. The rest appeared to be nothing more than houses for villagers, save for the block house and church down the road.

“This is where it happened,” Althaus said as he looked towards the front door of the bakery. “The building is currently occupied by the Gerst family. They moved here about twenty-five years ago. Prior to that it was occupied by Wulf Becker.”

“The first victim,” Alexandra said, thinking out loud. Althaus nodded.

“What did you know about him?” Alexandra asked.

“He was the village baker; about forty years old when he died.”

“Any family?”

“He was a widower with one daughter… Well, he raised her, but she wasn’t his daughter…”

“You’re saying this girl was adopted?” Alexandra probed. Althaus winced in discomfort.

“No, she is… a bastard. The child of another man,” Althaus explained.

“Wait, she’s still alive? Also how do you know that she was a bastard?” Alexandra asked.

“Yes. Her name is Elsa Bauer and she lives down the road in that direction,” Althaus replied while gesturing towards a house down the road, “As for how we know she’s a bastard… well… I think it will be apparent when you talk to her,” Alexandra decided not to inquire further about this woman. Alexandra then shifted her attention back to the bakery and Wulf Becker.

“So, what else do you know about this, Wulf Becker? Did he have any enemies?” Alexandra inquired. Althaus shook his head.

“No, Mr. Becker wasn’t that kind of man. As far as I know he mostly got along with everyone. He ran his business fairly, wasn’t much of a drinker, and attended service once a week.”

“I see. Now, from what I read in the reports of the incident, he was standing in the bakery at around noon when the killer entered the establishment. Is that correct?”

“Yes, your high… I mean yes sir. I believe that the killer was seen entering the village from the Frauenwald, the forest past the church,” Althaus explained as he pointed to the dark forest that lay beyond the church and the blockhouse.

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“Oh. And who witnessed this?” Alexandra asked. Althaus winced.

“That would be Father Taggart, our priest. He might know more, but good luck getting anything useful out of him.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, some time after the killings he started drinking. We’ve tried to get someone from the church to do something about him, but nothing has happened. The silver lining to this situation is that he’s only a danger to himself.”

“I see. Going back to the killer; did anyone record what he looked like?” Alexandra asked. Althaus scratched his head.

“There’s some disagreement over certain details like hair and eye color, but the one thing everyone agrees on is that he was a little short and non-threatening.”

“Non-threatening?”

“Yeah. He didn’t look like a bandit or anything like that. He didn’t carry a weapon nor did he act like he didn’t belong here. At first glance, he was just like anyone else.”

“Okay. So, nobody was alarmed when he entered the village?” Alexandra asked.

“That’s true. We don’t often see people emerge from the Frauenwald, but he was alone and unarmed, so nobody was bothered by it. He would have been seen as an oddity, but not a threat.”

“Wait, are you saying that there aren’t people that live in the Frauenwald? Aren’t there hunters that live there? Also, what about people that live on the other side of the forest?”

“Oh, no. All of our hunters live inside the village and there aren’t many settlements to the east of us. There are some small hamlets and I was told that they are building some sort of fortification at the eastern pass, but those people have access to a road that goes around the Frauenwald.”

“Oh. How come your hunters choose to live outside the forest?” Alexandra asked.

“Well, during the Time of Red Snow it was dangerous to go and live outside of a village by yourself. It isn’t perfectly safe now, but back then it was a suicidal move. I guess that sort of thinking just stuck to people… well there’s that and the stories…”

“The stories?” Alexandra repeated.

“Oh, just some bullshit, sir. No nicer way to put it. People make up all kinds of stories about that place. When my father was a kid, they said that the forest was full of ghosts. When I was a kid they said that a witch and her familiar lived there. Now they say a moonman is hiding out there. Soon they are going to say that it’s got a dragon, or a werewolf, or some other nonsense. People say the stories are what keep hunters and lumberjacks from going too deep into the forest, but that’s all hogwash. The truth is that you don’t have to go too deep to find game or a tree to cut down.”

“I see,” Alexandra replied, “Do you think we can get back to the killings?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. Anyways, according to Father Taggart’s testimony, the killer emerged from the Frauenwald, walked past the church and towards the village center. From there he made a left turn, walked past the blacksmith, and entered the bakery,” Althaus said as the group retraced the killer’s steps and entered the bakery.

The bakery was by far the most austere bakery Alexandra had ever entered. Unlike the fancy bakeries of Königsstadt’s citadel district there were no cakes or pastries; just loaves of brown whole wheat bread displayed on shelves behind a simple wooden countertop. Behind the countertop, Alexandra could see a middle-aged woman with brown hair.

“Hello Zita,” Althaus said with a smile.

“Hello, Mr. Althaus,” The woman replied. Althaus then proceeded to walk up to her and whisper something in her ear.

“Okay. I don’t think that will be a problem. Xaver and I haven’t changed much since we moved here,” She answered. Zita Gerst then left the building.

“This is where the witness testimony gets a little fuzzy,” Althaus began, “We know the killer entered this bakery, where Wulf Becker and Wilhelm Metzger, the second victim were.”

“Metzger… he was the village butcher, correct?” Alexandra asked.

“Yes. Unlike Becker, he was a pain in everyone’s side. He owed a fortune in gambling debts and had more creditors than everyone else in the village put together. His widow, Aloisia, would have been left with nothing, but the clothes on her back if the count didn’t step in and mediate things between her and her creditors.”

“So, he died and left his wife with all of that debt? Sounds rather scummy,” Ekkehardt commented.

“Yeah, but to be fair, dying was probably the nicest thing that piece of shit ever did for his wife. He would beat her at least once a week. Her friends wanted to help her, but she would always cover for him; tell them that she fell or that it was a mistake. I never understood why she did it…” Althaus explained before he trailing off and looking and staring out into space.

“Do you think she’ll want to talk about him? It sounds like she’s suffered enough and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable,” Alexandra asked. Althaus shook his head.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Aloisia passed away two or three years ago. She ended up marrying some farmer in another village shortly after Wilhelm’s death. I heard her new husband was a better man than Wilhelm, but I guess that’s a pretty low bar to pass.”

“I see…” Alexandra responded.

“Anyways, according to Aloisia, Wilhelm was at the bakery to speak with Becker. He told her that he was going there to purchase bread, but he would often go there just to chit-chat and waste time. I think Aloisia just wanted him away from her. She was the one holding the butcher shop together at that point, so his absence didn’t really hurt their livelihood,” Althaus explained.

“The killer entered through the front, like how we just did, and then proceeded to talk to either Metzger or Becker or both of them about… something.”

“Wait, how do you know this?” Alexandra interjected. Althaus pointed to a house across the street.

“The killer was seen entering the bakery by an old man named Peter Freimann, who used to live in that house. He said that he was sitting near his house when he saw the killer enter the bakery. A minute or two later, Freimann heard Becker, Metzger, and a third person shouting about something. Freimann then heard a loud crash before seeing Metzger being violently ejected from the bakery and landing on his back in the street,” Althaus explained before he led them out of the bakery and back onto the street.

“The killer then walked out of the bakery, got on top of Metzger, and began to beat the man. The killer struck him multiple times in the face before Becker emerged from the bakery with a black eye and a baker’s peel. Becker then struck the killer in the back of the head with the thin side of the peel, snapping it in two,” Althaus explained.

The old man then took his cane and lifted it up before turning it so that it was parallel to the ground. Holding it with both hands he pressed it up against his neck before continuing his recounting of events.

“Becker then took the handle of his broken peel and tried to strangle the killer with it by getting behind him and using it like a garrote; not unlike what I’m doing right now,” Althaus continued before returning his cane to its previous position. He then pointed to the exterior wall of the bakery; to a spot next to the entrance.

“Becker was able to drag the killer back to the front wall of the bakery, roughly to where I’m pointing, which allowed Metzger to get back up and pull out a boning knife. Metzger then lunged at the killer. The killer is able to kick him away twice and turned his nose into a bloody pulp the second time, but on Metzger’s third attempt he was able to stick the killer in the chest,” Althaus said as he pointed to a spot on the left side of his chest, roughly between the fourth and fifth ribs. Althaus then began to look a little nervous and found himself struggling to continue the story.

“What’s the matter?” Alexandra asked. Althaus scratched the back of his head.

“I’m sorry. From here on out I’m going to need you to bear with me. This is the part of the story where things get a little… strange…”